


Glimpses of Healing

by MothMeetsFlame



Series: Glimpses [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Caring John Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, De-Aged Dean Winchester, Gen, Growing Up, Teenchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-22 00:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothMeetsFlame/pseuds/MothMeetsFlame
Summary: Dean grows up, even when he can't."I know you don't like it, but you're gonna hear it! It might not be from Hunting, and it might not be soon, but one of these days, Dean’s not gonna have you around anymore. He needs to learn this stuff. He's capable. You just need to let him be.”





	Glimpses of Healing

~~~~“Dammit, Dean!”

John pressed a hand against the boy’s chest and pushed him back a few steps, just hard enough to get him to back away, but the suddenness of the movement was plenty enough for the waterworks to start.

“Shit- damn- fuck...”

Dean’s breath hitched as tears began building in his eyes.

“Oh, hell.” _Just stop for a second and take a breath and figure out what you wanna stay and then say it slowly and calmly._ That's what the therapist had told him. So that's what he did.

“Hey, Bud.” John put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and looked into red-rimmed eyes. “I need you to back away for a bit so you don't get hurt, okay?”

Dean pulled in hiccoughing breaths.

“Why don't you go color in your room for a little bit. I'm gonna clean this up.”

“Y- y- y- you ma- ad a’ me?”

“I'm not mad at you, kid.”

“You su- ure?”

“100%.”

“M’k- kay.”

“Just go play. I’ll get you in a bit.”

Dean walked down the hall, sniffling into his sleeve while John set to work. Broken glass was never fun, but a broken mug of hot chocolate was even worse. By the time most of the liquid was sopped up, the linoleum was a sticky mess, and the little ceramic slivers would sooner poke through the paper towels to stick him in the hand than wipe up easily and take residence in the trash can.

An hour later found him with sore knees and mild headache as he walked down the hallway to retrieve his kid. He cracked open the bedroom door, but Dean wasn’t in sight.

“Dean-o? Where are you, Bud?”

John heard sniffling and a steady voice coming from the closet, but he hesitated. He wasn’t snooping. He was simply checking on the boys before changing out of his chocolate-stained shirt. That's what he told himself at least. The urge to press his ear to the door, however, said otherwise.

“Come on, Dean, you can tell me,” he heard Sam ask.

“Nothin’.”

“Please?”

“Just been bad. Tol’ me to use two hands, Mr. Winchester, but I breaked it.”

John imagined Dean’s frown.

“I made Daddy mad.”

John sighed and walked back to the kitchen. He stared forlornly at the bottle of Jack on the fridge before picking up the phone and dialing Pastor Jim’s number.

“ _Heya, John. Good to hear from you .”_

“Do you have a Hunt for me?”

 

* * *

 

“Winchester.”

“ _John? Glad I got through to you._ ”

“Reception’s been spotty. The boys okay, Jim?”

“ _Fine, John. They’re just fine._ ”

A little bit of tension went out of John’s shoulders. He continued shoveling weapons into his duffle bag, double checking to be sure he had everything he needed for the salt and burn.

“ _Got a little bit of a problem with Dean, though_.”

John checked his watch and sighed. “A nightmare?”

“ _Got it in one_.”

“Put him on.”

“ _Daddy?”_  He could hear Dean sniffle over the line.

“Hey, Dean-o. You have another nightmare?”

“ _Yeah_.”

“You know it's not real, Bud. It's just pretend like the movies.” No matter how many times they had this conversation, it never really got better. It was one of the main problems with Dean’s regression. As far as John could tell, Dean still had all of his old memories. He just wasn’t able to process all of them.

“ _It- it got you_.”

“What got me?”

“ _The ghost. It was mad cause you got his bones when it was sleepin an’ it woke up ‘cause you forgot the ring an’ you turned around an- an- an- an-_ ”

“Shhhhhh. It's ok, Dean. It was just a dream. I'm safe and sound at the motel, okay? No ghosts are going to get me here.”

“ _But_ —”

“Now Pastor Jim is gonna read you a nice story and get you some sleepy tea, and then you can sleep with Sammy tonight.”

“ _But I want you to come back_.”

“I'll be back in two days, Dean. Just two more days.”

The line was silent for a few seconds.

“ _John_.”

“Hey, Jim. He okay?”

“ _He had a nightmare, John, not a severed limb. He’ll be just fine._ ”

“I know, it's just…”

“ _I know. Finish up with your ghost. We’ll be here._ ”

“Thanks, Jim.”

“ _And don’t forget the ring_.”

The line went dead.

John sorted through the newspapers scattered on his bed before settling on his ghost’s obituary photo, cropped from one of his wedding pictures. John noted the thin band on his ring finger, wondered if it was in the wall safe in the funeral home. Maybe they were honest and left it on the corpse.

John scoffed. Not likely.

 

* * *

 

“‘...but Pengo knew he could do it. He took the tallest stick he could find, and he brought the biggest blanket he had, and he--’ Dad! You’re back!”

“Dad?” Dean looked up curiously from the book in Sam’s lap.

“Heya, boys.” John set his keys in the dish at the front door and braced himself for—

“Daddy!” Dean nearly tackled him to the ground.

“Hey, Dean-o.” John pressed a kiss to his temple. “Were you a good boy for your brother?”

“He was fine, Dad,” Sam answered, putting the book down.

John reached out and ruffled Sam’s hair, grinning at the obstinate look on his face.

“Daaaaad.” Sam scowled.

John chuckled. “You boys go on your morning run?”

“Yep,” Dean answered, pulling back. “Mara got a puppy.”

“That right?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Bit him on the ankle. He cried for like an hour.”

“Did not!”

“Fine. It was more like fifteen minutes.”

Dean humphed.

Sam grinned at him, and Dean stuck out his tongue at his brother.

“Is he alright?” John asked Sam. “Did it break skin?”

“No. It's a yap dog. It just nipped him a little.”

“Good.”

“Daddy! Look! Come look what me an’ Sammy did.”

“Sammy and I,” Sam corrected as Dean pulled their father into the next room to see the painting Sam let him do.

John followed obediently, but Sam turned left at the top of the stairs instead of right and sat at his desk. He opened a textbook and began his homework, studiously ignoring the acceptance letters hidden under a slew of school supplies in his bottom right drawer.

 

* * *

 

“You're just going to what? Abandon your family?”

“Only you would think of it as ‘abandonment’!” Sam scoffed.

John glared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Sam grabbed the acceptance letter from John and looked down at it. “I just… I can't keep feeling guilty. I can’t stay here with you blaming me for what happened to Dean.”

“I never blamed you, Sammy.”

“Yes you did. And I blame myself too.”

John frowned, but Sam continued. “I had to be the big brother, take care of him when you were working, when you were Hunting, but I can't do it anymore. I was just a kid. Did you realize that?”

“Sam…”

“No. I don't want to hear it. I’m not abandoning anybody, John. I’m just going to school. Anyone else would be proud.”

“I _am_ proud.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am. I just…” John rubbed a hand down his face, thoughts reeling. “You can't leave Dean, Sammy. He needs you.”

Sam sighed. “I know he does. And that’s… that's why I'm taking him with me.”

“What?!” John had never felt the urge to hit one of his kids, but he sure as hell was getting close. “Like hell you are!”

Sam ignored his father’s anger, plowing forward. “There's this center in Palo Alto that I think would be good for him.”

“No.”

“Just hear me out! He has an interview on Monday, and if he passes, they'll help him--”

“No!”

“He's not a child!” Sam screamed it an inch from John’s face, but John didn’t rise to the bait like Sam thought he might. John’s face shut down, and he backed away, completely deflated.

“Yes he is,” John said heavily.  

“No, he's not,” Sam argued. “He's twenty-two, Dad. He deserves a real shot at a life.”

“He's got a real life.”

“And what happens when you're not here? When a Hunt comes along that you ‘just can't skip’ again? I'm not gonna be here to watch him.”

“You're not the only one that can watch him. I can call Pastor Jim or Caleb or--”

“And what about when you don't come back? Think Pastor Jim or Caleb can take care of Dean full time? Think they can do it half as good as you do?”

“Dammit, Sam! I’m not talking about this with you.”

John stepped toward the front door, but Sam blocked him. “No! I know you don't like it, but you're gonna hear it! It might not be from Hunting, and it might not be soon, but one of these days, Dean’s not gonna have you around anymore. He needs to learn this stuff. He's capable. You just need to let him be.”

The house was silent for a few moments before John spoke. “He's just… he’s so little, Sam.”

“I know. And we can't take it back.” It’d been long enough that Sam had to accept that fact, even if he didn’t like it. “But we can help him.”

“I've been helping him.”

“I know you have.”

There was a moment when neither of them knew what to say. Sam ran a hand through his hair, and John shook his head in defeat.

“The interview’s on Monday?”

Sam’s face broke out in a smile. “At nine thirty.”

“That's not a yes.”

Sam nodded readily enough.

“I wanna see this place for myself.”

“Of course.”

“And Dean’s not living anywhere but with me.”

“But—”

“That's the deal breaker,” John told him. “It's either with me or he's not going anywhere. I still don’t know if we can even afford it.”

Sam grinned. “They offered to take him on at no cost as long as he passes the interview.”

John’s eyes widened in surprise. “How’d you swing that?

“They have lifetime donors that annually sponsor one person for a ten-year session. Dean’s in the top three based on his application alone.”

“Ten years? That's a lot.”

“I know. But it'll be good for him.”

John sighed. “We’ll see, Sam. We’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

Dean picked John up in a big bear hug and slapped him on the back. John winced a bit but didn’t complain.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” he said.  

“‘M always happy t’ see you.”

“So, kid. Anything new happen today?”

Dean grinned. “Ms. Kim says I've been doing good with the flowers.”

“That's great, Dean-o.” John patted him on the back.

“She said I need to talk to Mr. Fields ‘bout maybe workin’ in a shop.”

“Hmmmm… we’ll see about that. I wanna be there when you talk with Ms. Kim and Mr. Fields to make sure you’re ready first.” John hesitated for a moment before adding, “Is that alright with you?” It was one step toward Dean’s independence, allowing him to make decisions on his own.

“O’course.”

John sighed in relief.

“Ms. Kim gave me a note for you today too ‘cause I think she wants you there wit me.”

“And how about you?”

“Huh?”

“What do you think about working in a shop? It's a pretty big step for you, Dean.”

Dean frowned for a moment before he shrugged. “Dunno,” he said.

John stayed silent for a moment while Dean worked through his thoughts.

“Kinda don't wanna,” he said.

“Why not, kiddo?”

Dean shrugged again. “Don't really like flowers.”

“Well, what _do_ you like?”

Dean blushed and turned away, shrugged again.

“Come on, Bud. You gotta give me something here.”

Dean mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I _said,_ ” Dean rolled his eyes, “I like cars.”

“Just like your old man, huh?”

“What ol’ man?”

John chuckled. “Me, kid. Just like me.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Well… it's gonna take a lot of learning. Are you ready for that?”

“For real?”

“Of course. If you wanna be a mechanic like me, you're gonna have to learn the ropes.”

“Yes!” Dean wiggled happily in his seat, and John smiled.

“I'm just warning you, Dean-o. It's gonna be hard.”

Dean pouted. “Like reading?”

“Harder.”

Dean's brow creased as he pondered John’s words. “‘S not so bad. Ms. Kim tol’ me I’m almost ready for next level books. And I read all the books on the number four shelf already.”

“Atta boy. See what workin hard does?”

“Yep.”

“So... What do you say to a little detour?”

“What?”

“I think Sammy would be awful proud of his big brother when we tell him about your new goals.”

“We’re gonna go see Sammy?”

“That we are, kiddo.”

“Awesome.” Dean grinned.


End file.
